for every heart
that beats in orbit
around my own
and the hearts
mine circles as well
i owe life and love
and good will to
for your light that spills
into all my cracks
and turns my shape
to gold
for thoughts
both heard
and silent
that lift like thermals
and carry me high

i am woven like a quilt
of threads of gratitude
that connects us forever

what might have happened
in old Burn’s life
to drive his tongue
to spill out those deep
those heart wrenching words

what crashed down upon his head
and pressed him to the earth
to cause spirit to split
like olives beneath the stone
and give birth to such an oil
that has lit the way
for many a wandering fool
from his to this day
an echoing of words
set in hard Scottish lilt –

“the best laid plans
of mice and men
oft go awry”

there is a little love
it’s kept secret
and in the dark
lest it be found out
and stolen away

there is a little love
that cannot grow
nor can it thrive
for lack of fresh air
and the golden light of day

so it is buried
like coins beneath the floor
hidden from prying eyes
to ward off poisons
like jealousy and decay

it is but a thing of youth
naive and senseless passion
a clinging in black corners
a yearning beneath balconies
where the soul might stray

buried in jars of clay
changing the world to gray
fermenting hearts astray
with only the small fee
of loss and death to pay.

“Who are you?”

“Some would ask what?”

“Fine, what are you?”

“I don’t know?”

“How old are you?”

“I don’t know…I remember a time before this place?”

“My home?”

“This earth. “

“What are you?”

“I knew once… long ago. Some have called me spirit… others demon.”

“Were you alone?”

“I don’t think so. I recall echoes of memories of voices around me. In the dark.”

“How did you come here?”

“I was called…I am here now. I will not leave.”

Do a thing

That keeps them

From running away

Be a thing

That forces them

To stay

This is the way

I am am object

To be used

Not to be confused

With a thinking

Rational human being

Never that.

there is clarity in the cold
of a prairie deep-freeze day
unlike what you find
in the boring heat of summer
these sky-blue, frozen space times
where everything is brighter
and you can see the edges
of a once blurry world
these days of hope
and freezing to death
all in one confused tangle
telling us that in the end
the sun is not for warmth
but to show us the reality of all things

i would have yearned
to call you friend
and kindred spirit
brother
if not for the tresapass
upon my heart
and we would have talked
and lifted one-another
to greater heights
to stronger heights
as brethren are meant to do

instead i must mourn
the loss of what would have been
the abandonment of what could have been
all for a pouch of silver
and a noose around a neck
to be hung from a dead branch
as is the outcome for treachery

Stand stolid in the doorways
Of every evil place
And sing songs into the dark
That those blinded by the black
Might hear
And find a way out

I was reading recently the story of a person who was abused and the cathartic work of revealing the secrets to the world.

The writing was unconfortably honest.

It brought to mind an analogy –

Fearful of being seen in the light cockroaches will scurry into cracks and hide their actions in secrecy and darkness… some people are the same. As if anonymity and invisibility can wash away shame.

The unbearable weight of secrets crushes us and transforms us into resentful, fearful, angry versions of what we once were… of what we could be.  Like Tolkien’s twisted Orcs who were once shining Elves before they were corrupted by evil.

Over the years, the lessons of my youth have taught me to shed secrets to the wind before they kill me. This has made me too open in some ways as if the pendulum has swung too far in the other direction.

But i can recall the weight lifted from my shoulders with the shedding of every single secret, and each time, I felt as if I could fly for a while.

It is worth it… hiding kills us slowly.

The men in my life
found me a fertile field
to dig for their lost innocense
so they carved out mine
like blood diamonds
with their bladed hands
and left me a walking, gaping wound
a living unlit canyon
shaped like a lost child

i have tried to fill that wound
with all of the good and all of the evil
i could get my shaking hands on
with god and the devil and everything between
but they were as empty as the void within;
i’ve asked friends and family,
i’ve asked lovers and enemies,
to stand a watch within my heart
but the burden is too great
to place on any shoulder,
to place within a loving soul
and now i find myself at a crossroads
seeking a source to undo this void
and i would lift my voice in petition
except the vacuum without
is as the vacuum within
airless and without a sound
not even an echo to return my voice to me

but i will persist,
a hollow man
ready for a fertile soil
that i might grow green again
and you will know me
by the blossoms that burst forth
watered by my ocean blue eyes
that draw you near –
something irresistable,
a loving strength
renewed.